this song reminds me of you
It’s pretty magical how music can take you right back to a certain time in your life. Suddenly you remember exactly how it felt to be the version of you that the song reminded you of.
I’m, uhh…how do you say this…extremely goddamn sentimental? But, we all knew that. Music is really what sends me over the edge. Songs that make me crave a specific moment.
‘Sex’ by The 1975 takes me right back to being seventeen, front row at their first show in Utah. I was with Cristal and Tristen and it was right around the time I really started getting obsessed with finding music. I found The 1975 because Harry Styles tweeted about them (classic) and it just so happened that they were touring in Utah for the first time - a few weeks later. To this day it was one of the best shows I’ve ever been to. But when he played ‘Sex’, the last song on the setlist…I think my life changed. I remember Matty, the lead singer, seemed pretty mind blown that anyone showed up at all, but he played that song like he was headlining MSG. I remember how I FELT, you guys. I remember how my 17 year old self felt, jumping up and down with the crowd, screaming every word with all of the other 17 year old girls around me who were probably also there because of Harry Styles. I think that was the first time I ever said “fuck” in my entire life, to be honest. It felt like the closest thing I’d ever get to teenage rebellion.
And yet still, 6 years later, that song takes me right back.
Other songs, carry bittersweet memories of moments I don’t crave at all. (There are still like 10 One Direction songs I can’t listen to without crying, is what I’m trying to say.)
Last year, I think it was in May, Jackson and I were hanging out in the bathroom. I know that sounds weird, but, yeah. Okay it just sounds weird. But if you know me, you know I take a lot of baths. I have my best ideas in there, and the ideas running around my head are what keeps this ship afloat so Jack just lets it happen. He’ll come in there with me and hang out, because he gets lonely. And I do too. But not lonely enough to get out of the bath. You see? Idk, it’s a great little agreement we have worked out. But I kind of love how many memories in that lil bathroom.
We had been in quarantine for a few months, and to our surprise, we were thriving. We didn’t get sick of each other. Ever. And we were warned by pretty much everyone that getting sick of each other was going to happen. Especially after having a baby, and especially after being stuck in the same house for months. But there we were, doing face masks and listening to Solange at 1 am, while our tiny newborn baby slept in the other room. More in love than ever before.
Some of us made banana bread at the beginning of quarantine, and some of us decided to ~get into skincare~. I fell into that category. (A much more expensive category, btw.) I was trying out all of my new products, and Jack was letting me brush a ~resurfacing mask~ on his face. I was all up in his perfectly pore-less grill, when I realized what song had just come on.
‘Someone New’ by Banks
I think I might have instinctually flinched. Because I thought this song was locked away in my imaginary “DO NOT LISTEN TO THESE SONGS WHEN YOU MISS JACKSON” playlist from a few years back.
You know what I’m talking about.
Songs that brings memories we *don’t want to be reminded of.
But I listened.
And by the end of the first first, I was already back in my 20 year old body, crying in the car after passing his exit on the freeway.
“I can love you desperately, though your love ain't guaranteed
Oh, I wish you knew the deal
Gotta learn from far away
And I simply needed space
Space for me to be, and I think you need it too
Though I know you call me selfish for assuming
I did this for you too
You still got me 'round your finger
Even though I'm far away
Please, believe me when I say
Everything I do, I'm gonna think of you
Don't know what else to do
You got me, you got me, baby
Everything I make, I only make for you
Baby, be patient for me
And please don't fall in love with someone new
I promise, one day I'll come back for you”
Back when I was young and heartbroken, it was a miracle if I could go a day without thinking about Jackson. But driving past where I used to get off the freeway to go to his house, rocked my world every time. It hurt because it reminded me of how close we were to each other, but also how far I really was from him.
For months, I was lighting myself on fire, trying to keep him warm, and eventually I burned out. I had to distance myself, but the distance hurt almost worse than getting burned by this fire. Because, when Jackson was hurt, he would isolate. He would shut off to the point where I couldn’t reach him if I tried. So I’d sit there, driving past his exit on the freeway, wondering. Wondering if he’s okay. Wondering if he’s going to be okay. Wondering if he missed me. Wondering if we’d ever be able to figure things out.
And then there, in the back of my mind was the part of me who just selfishly hoped he wouldn’t find someone new.
“Oh, you say you hate me now
And you burn me with your words
Callin' me a fool
Saying that I've fucked up everything
And you'll never forgive me
Though I'm doin' this for you
Baby, can't you see if there is such a thing of loving
Someone so much that you need
To give them time to let them breathe
But you don't understand
I wish you understood
Oh, I hope one day you do
Everything I do, I'm gonna think of you
Don't know what else to do
You got me, you got me, baby
Everything I make, I only make for you
Baby, be patient for me
And please don't fall in love with someone new
I promise, one day I'll come back for you”
This was the song I’d listen to in the car, when I’d cry over stupid things like the freeway exit he lived by. Because this song was me. It was as good as my own journal. And even though relating to this song was painful, it hurt so good to feel seen.
After awhile, however, I stopped believing myself when I’d sing “I promise, one day I’ll come back to you.”
That line was the tiniest glimmer of hope I held onto for all of those years. But when the hope faded, all that was left was the reminder of what I’d never have again. It was all bitter, no sweet.
So I hung it up for good.
Three years later, and I finally hear the song again. I’m on my tippy toes, painting the face of the love of my life with a silver glittery face mask. I instinctually flinch when it comes on, but as I listen to this song that broke my heart and put it back together so many times….
the sweetness comes.
It hit me. Everything was okay. We. Were. Okay.
We made it back to each other.
My eyes welled up with tears, but I hid them. I just listened and enjoyed the new feelings that came with the song.
The feeling that the storm was finally over.
Right there in that room, was all I could have ever wanted when I was in my “Olivia Rodrigo-cry-in-the-car-while-you-pass-your-exes-house” phase of life. That tiny glimmer of hope that the line “I promise one day I’ll come back to you” gave me, is what led me to that moment. And it all hit me at once.
So I cried to this song like I had done one hundred times before, but this time, it didn’t sting. It healed.
When Jackson finally noticed the tears rolling down my cheeks, he worriedly asked me what was wrong. I opened my mouth to explain everything I just wrote about , but all I could get out was
“This song reminds me of you.”
